


Russia and Germany

by GimpedForLife



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Domestic Discipline, Gen, Non-Consensual Spanking, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 00:48:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7663750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GimpedForLife/pseuds/GimpedForLife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The time is World War 2</p><p>As a matter of historical fact, the Third Reich was defeated by the Red Army and not by the Western democracies. </p><p>OR</p><p>That fic I wrote where Russia spanks Germany into submission to help end the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Russia and Germany

**Author's Note:**

> I had not Beta reader for this, so let me know if there are any grammatical or spelling mistakes.   
> I didn't really write in their accents phonetically, I was just lazy and couldn't be bothered.   
> So yeah.  
> My deviantart account under the same username has a picture to go with this, for those who care.

The time is World War 2

_As a matter of historical fact, the Third Reich was defeated by the Red Army and not by the Western democracies._

*

In the blizzard there was no way to know which direction to go, the usual landmarks were hidden behind the white that swirled so densely. Not that's he'd know any of them if I could see them. 

_I have no idea where we are._ Ludwig’s thoughts growled, vicious from frustration.

“Please don't die on me!” he whispered roughly as he ran, more to himself then the younger man half draped over his left shoulder. Italy limped along, barely conscious on his left. Germany frowns, he knows he's fading fast… 

The soft crystals that he would have found so bewitching from the other side of a pane glass, found their way into the thin dress shirt in every possible way. The packed down his neck and between the fabric that flapped slightly at the front. He could feel his blood cool and his skin become icy. Even as a country, with his limits more then that of a regular man, there is only so much Russian winter he can take.

He look around desperate, the cold, the snow, the wind… all blinding. He didn't know if they've hit safe territory yet. The stolen vehicle had run out of gas, So they had to keep on going via his leg power. Italy has been fading hard since the before the car. He'd bled out mostly in the vehicle. They'd been ordered to retreat when the battle had been lost. Surviving soldier would be taken by the Russians, but the war is not lost yet. As long as their wills remain unbroken. 

He grimaced, they’ll both be gone soon. _We need to just take cover, I can’t carry him forever._

When they'd escaped he'd seen the signs of the storm. So he had anticipated the coldness and the sting of driven snow on his face on some level. But not the ferocity of the wind and how the light blinded him so completely. It was like walking into a fresh page as the fibers are still being laid down, threatening to make him part of the scenery instead of a person in his own right. 

All he could do was to bow his head until his chin touched his chest and keep walking. Though his feet were beginning to freeze and his footsteps were small in their spacing. Snow sinking in past his ankles with each stride. The weight of the other man.

Italy sagged completely on him, he's dead. He'll have to fully carry him now. 

Through the wind and snow he see's a dark spot on a hill to his left, hidden by one of the many mountains… 

_A cave? It's better then freezing to death out in the open for that damn Russian to find us._

He quickly begins to drag them both up the side of the mountain. 

The cave was built into the muddy brown rock of the cliff, the stone guarding the entrance was jagged and uneven, arranged in such a way, that it would be difficult for anyone passing by to spot. The closer he crept the more amazed he was that he’d found it at all. 

As he came up to the entrance he couldn't help but feel a little dramatic by the sight before him. It was a cave mouth of impenetrable blackness, as he stepped in he watched his shadow dissolve into the surrounding darkness. It was dank and the only sound was the howling wind outside. The blizzard was picking up. 

By his best guess from the smell and what he could hear, this cavern wormed its way half a mile into the mountain. It's general shape was ovoid, the walls below the ridge smoothly curved to the floor. The walls above arched another hundred feet up to giant stalactites.

But it was dry, and the further he dragged himself in, the warmer it became. Not much, but It was better then outside. Not wind chill, and any heat either of them made would be kept within the walls.

 _It's better then nothing._

Though, it would be an understatement to say that to enter the cave was to become engulfed in it's chilling blackness. The deeper he dragged their broken, bleeding bodies, the absence of light became more apparent. Germany sighed, it meant the absence of its warming touch, as much as it's illuminating glow.

Underfoot the loose stones shifted, twisting his ankle one way and then the other, and the noise of those disturbed rocks echoed off the dense stone walls. He kept going, slow but steady, dragging his companions body with him. 

Ahead was the sound of water dripping into water. But without even a spare hand to strike a match to cast light into the black there was no way to tell how deep it was or if his next step would take it into it's frigid depths. 

Deciding they were far enough in the cave to be safe he unceremoniously dropped the other man to the stone floor. Cold licked at his face and crept under his clothes, spreading across his skin like the lacy tide on a frigid winter beach. With purple lips tinged with blue and gently chattering teeth he wrapped his thin shirt around himself tighter. 

With what little reserve he had left he pulled out a small flashlight clicking it on and shifted his companion around. Making the young mans position slightly more comfortable for when he wake. With that done Germany all but collapsed next to his friend. 

He shut the flash light off. Not wanting to waste the batteries. In the darkness the whole world could have blown away in this freak storm. Lying down against the stone floor his cheek pressed into the rock he can smell the earth as if it's wiped clean, as if all the plant life is gone. The fact that he's actively pressed against the ground is the only reason he can reason to know the ground is still there.

Everything else has dissolved like it was never there at all, like the universe hasn't even begun, or perhaps it never had. In the darkness he can't get a sense that anything is important at all; life, death, pain. Germany momentarily allowed for the more sensitive parts of his soul to come forth and breath. No matter how much he'd tried during this war, there were some parts of him he couldn't lock away deep enough, his bosses demanded absolute obedience and loyalty. Sacrifice and hard work.

He laid there staring up into the empty air, wishing for the dawn to come and kiss the land and remind his fickle heart that he's not the only one here. That there is a whole planet of other sentient beings who live and love. For Italy to wake and smile again. But for now all he has is this dark cave and a dead comrade to wait it out with.

Feeling heavy and empty. He had been awake for thirty-six hours when his mind dragged him into the oblivion of sleep.

He drifted out of consciousness. And then back in. The world was a blur, and random images seemed to float aimlessly around in the pool of his thoughts, as though they were being blown about viciously by the blizzard outside. A tap on his shoulder momentarily dragged him back to the outside world, but after a second he was once again lost. He couldn’t grasp reality, like rope it slipped through his exhausted fingers. He could feel somebody trying to look at him, staring him dead in the eye, but he couldn't keep focus. 

_Italy._

The whole world simply felt low resolution, a bad quality film. Confusion blossomed in his heart and he knew that sooner or later he would need to wake up. To stare reality in the face. But for now he stayed down, his head heavy, and retreated into the inviting wallowing blackness. 

 

*

From the ocean of random ideas comes some order, a subtle awareness of who he is. Under the flow of thoughts with their loose connections to his waking life. After a few more moments he begins to analyze them in a lazy way, perhaps these ideas are meant to be kept? Some are composed as if from a book he once read, some are just silly. In another moment they are gone leaving no trace. If they are still in his head there is no bread crumb trail back to them. His eyelids flicker open to the overly bright room. He can't see past the blur.

He closes his eyes again, willing the ocean to return, for his mind to tumble back to dreams, but it won't. Slowly Ludwig awoke, eyes slowly coming to focus on the single bulb above. He was dimly aware of his body being uncomfortably rigid and straight, no movement possible. Pulling his head upward he could see thick leather straps over his arms and legs. He's bound to a chair that's bolted to the floor.

_That's never a good sign._

Saliva pooled in the back of his throat and he swallowed, panicked. Every swallow was like glass down his throat and his eyes watered with the effort. Water was a wishful dream and food was a concept not even worth the effort of hoping for. A bead of sweat slid down his forehead by his eye stopping right at the corner of his lips. It was only single drop of salty water licked to the inside of his mouth, but he savored it. Thick saliva lined the inside of his mouth immediately sapping any moisture that may enter. He twisted his limbs, turning them, feeling the friction of the rough leather against his skin. 

Looking around the barren room for any sort of clue as to where he was or who'd brought him here Germany felt the vague recollection of being here before. It took him a moment to recognize the space, but he was in a basement. Ivan's basement. He'd been here before for various means of business, over their shared history. The basement was dank and smelled of cigarettes. The walls and ceilings had a yellow-tar sheen on them.

The smell brought forward the craving for a soothing cigar. He hadn't had one in at least a week, they'd been on the run and before they'd been separated, his brother has smoked the last one. 

_Bastard._ His thoughts muttered fondly, a small smile momentarily graced his lips. Germany refused to allow thoughts of his brother fill his mind, they'd only bring anxiety and weakness. He needed to stay calm, keep his cool, who knows what Ivan will bring to the metaphorical table. He needed to stay on top of his game if he wanted half a chance of getting out of this victorious. 

Looking around the room with his limited mobility Germany surveyed what little there way to be seen. He couldn't see for sure, but there was some sort of metal table or shelf behind him, but he could not tell what was on it. He was facing the entrance to the basement, so he could easily see the stairs that led to the house above. They didn't match the gloomy bare look of the basement. They were a darker wood, worn but polished. As if they were from a time when this was more then an interrogation room, when this room held more then prisoners. 

The door out of here on the other hand looked exactly like one would expect it was solid metal. It looked thick and heavy like nothing was going to budge it. The surface was flat and shiny like the outside of a stainless steel refrigerator. There was no handle viable from this side of the door, no hinges, nothing to get a grip on. The top and bottom, even the sides, lay so utterly against the frame it almost looked to be part of the wall rather then a door. 

With a sigh Ludwig looked down at the stone floor, he wasn't getting out of here. He knew that on some level. He could fight, but even if he could somehow get past Russia in his weakened state, finding Italy in the large unfamiliar house above would be doubtful. That doesn't even count Russia’s allies. His sisters and the Baltic's would be here, if not others from the west. 

Ludwig was pulled from his musings as he heard the only door open, for a brief moment the basement was flooded in a light from the house above him. A tall silhouette soon blocked the light, pausing before descending the steps. He didn't bother looking up right away, instead he continued to sag and look at the stone ground. The creaking of the door as it shut bringing a chill to his spine. It sounded like some dying animal, crying out its pain and sorrow with its last breath. Taking the warm light away with it's painful chorus. 

With a final moment of reservation Ludwig sat up straight and squared his shoulders. Setting his head up high to stare down the Russian. He would fight until the end, he had his pride as a nation and a soldier after all. 

As he takes him in, for the first time something about Russia strikes Germany as unnatural. As nations they are hardly normal by the pedestrian standard. But watching him as he casually descends the staircase Germany feels like this could be the first time he's laying eyes on the man. 

“Ah, good. You're awake,” Ivan said with an eerily calm smile and demeanor as he reached the bottom step. “I was beginning to wonder if you would ever join the land of the living again.” He slowly removed his coat and scarf setting them on the railing of the stairs. 

“Ivan.” Germany bit out through gritted teeth, watching the Russian as he slowly made his way around the room. Almost as if Germany wasn't there. 

“Ludwig.” Russia greeted, even though Germany knew that the friendly act was simply that, an act. It still grated his nerves. 

In an effort to not play right into the other mans hands Germany forced himself to relax as much as he could. Putting on a casual air. “How long have I been out?”

“Long enough.” Ivan evaded easily as he stalked slowly around the other mans chair. “Long enough for me to have already dealt with your friend.”

Germany refused to give anything away by that remark, keeping his features schooled into the epiphany of neutrality. His body relaxed against his bindings. He refuses to allow the images his mind desperately wants to conjure about Italy, in that moment. They would not serve him here. He stares straight ahead at the wall in front of him, not looking at the Russian who is standing still to his right. 

Ludwig knows that anger is a silent huntress looming in cracks and crevice of the soul, ready to strike when you least expect it. It can easily hover over those in it's grasp like morning fog, clouding judgment. He breathes in and out slowly, forcing himself into some state of mind that can function.

Ivan observes him like a hawk, each and every muscle twitch, each breath, every single drop of sweat is noted and cataloged within the Russians maze of a mind. Ludwig didn't see it, but Ivan smiled at his reaction, the little rise in the corner of his mouth combined with the cool detachment in his eyes sealed Germany's fate. He turned and casually strolled over to the table behind Germany, grabbing another metal chair similar to the one the German was strapped in, minus the fact that it wasn't bolted to the floor. He dragged the chair across the floor lazily, not bothered by the screeching the legs made against the floor. Not unlike nails on a chalk bored. 

He set it down unceremoniously directly in front of Germany, before easing himself into the chair looking for all the world deeply satisfied. A satisfaction that comes from having completed a deeply, personally needed action. It was expressed by the slightest curve at the corner of his mouth. Ludwig swallowed the urge pumping through is veins to punch it right off the other mans face. Germany kept his facial expression as one of absolute disdain. In that moment he abhorred the Allies more then ever. To him they were less than the mud on his leather boots.

For a while they sit knee deep in silence. For the first time Germany realizes that somewhere behind him a faucet drips into the sink, each one reverberating around the room like a cymbal, yet Ivan doesn't even blink or move to stop it. He just watches Germany with an expression of one part giddy two parts unreadable. 

“So, Germany.” Ivan says finally breaking the silence, Germany's left eyebrow twitches. The only sign that he bothered to registrar what the other is saying. “You're looking a little resilient for a man in your position.”

“A man in my position?” Germany questioned, head cocking to the right slightly. “What position would that be?”

“Oh, you are a smart man. Yes?” Russia pats Germany's knee as he stands. “I'm sure you will figure it out soon enough.” Ivan waves his hand airily as he speaks once again making the short trek to the table behind Germany. “But first thing first.”

Germany resisted the utterly tempting urge to look over his shoulder to see what the Russian is grabbing. It doesn't sound large, but even small tools can pack a large punch. To his great surprise Ivan reappears next to him a moment later with a bottle of water in his hand. He moves to stand in front of Germany and opens it. Germany briefly wonders if he plans to just drink it in front of him, but that seems oddly cruel even for the Russian, definitely not the other mans style. 

Ivan takes a quick swig of the water, giving the man beneath him a distinct look as he does to show it is not poisoned. With more gentleness then he looks like he should posses Ivan tilts Ludwig’s head up and tips the water bottle against his lips, allowing him to drink. 

Drinking cold water in this moment feels like the greatest luxury on earth to Ludwig. With each gulp his addams apple bobbed violently and all to soon he'd drained the bottle of water down to the very last drop. 

Ivan pulls his hand away from under Germany's chin just as gently as he'd placed it there. Moving behind the other once more to throw the bottle away, Germany hears it fall in what must be a trash can, from the rustle of plastic and small thump.

“Do you want another?” Ivan asks looking over his shoulder at the bound man. Germany pauses considering, _what is he playing at?_ “I have no intention of killing by dehydration.” Ivan answers the unasked question. 

“I have no intention of killing you at all actually.” Ivan says more to himself then anyone else, looking momentarily thoughtful.

Germany nods, knowing that the other will see the movement. Ivan gets another and they repeat the same process over again, with slightly less urgency on Germany part this time. 

Once the second bottle is drained and thrown away he once again seats himself across from the other.

“You'll have to wait until we are done here to eat, but I think we can manage one of these before we begin.” Ivan says eerily as he pulls a pack of cigarettes from his left breast pocket. It's not a new pack, missing several already Germany notices, as Ivan takes two from the packet. He puts it in Germany mouth and lights it via a lighter procured from his breast pocket as well.

Germany takes a long drag, momentarily grateful for the chemical stick. It dampens his veracious hunger and actually calms his nerves on a deeper level. He made sure to inhale slowly, he felt his lungs being wrapped by the familiar warm blanket. Ivan lights the second one he had pulled out well, he relaxes back against his chair, slouching slightly in front of Germany once more and they stare at each other with a little less venom as they smoke. 

The air is so brittle it could snap. Occasionally Ivan will pull Germany's cancer stick from his mouth to flick the ash onto the floor so the ash doesn’t fall into his lap before returning it back to be puffed on. 

 

The sigh that came from Germany’s was a signal, not of his resolve leaving but of the level his tension had reached. He briefly reminded Ivan of a kettle used for tea, he still full of heat even when some steam forced its way out. 

Germany, looked away briefly before returning his gaze to Ivan's face, he was tired. Ready for this to be over so he could return his mind to oblivion. “What exactly are you planning here Braginski, I somehow doubt you took me here to offer me a smoke?” 

“Da, I did not.” Russia grinned, it seemed that as he did the temperature of the room fell a little. Germany resisted the urge to shiver, instead tried to play off his sudden unease by raising an eyebrow. It was a Cheshire grin of sorts, the kind that was so wide it was more as if Ivan wanted to eat his soul rather than say hello.

“It's actually very simple mister Germany,” Ivan explained as he stood, moving his chair back to the table behind them. “I need something from you and until I get it we wont be leaving this room.” Russia now stands directly in front of the bound man and towers over him.

“And what would that be?” Germany asks darkly, he is not afraid of the other, but he is unsure of how this will play out. He did his best not to allow his imagination run away from him in that moment, thoughts of teeth being pulled or fingers broken danced in the edge of his mind.

“Your submission.” Russia practically sings as he instantly claps his large bear paw hand over Germany windpipe. Crushing the other nations airways, not enough for permanent damage but enough to keep him from sucking in even a spec of air. 

With one hand over Germany's windpipe Ivan's other hand undoes his restraints easily. With every movement there's a wheeze like air escaping from a deflating balloon as Germany struggles to breathe. He pulls the man into a standing position by his neck once all the restrains are removed. Germany's vision is blurry he feels it coming like a train, the rising panic. He feels it crash into him the dizzy feeling and the need to get low to the ground. But he can't convince his limbs to fight back, everything just screams for him to get air.

Ivan unceremoniously sits in the chair, dragging Germany over his lap as he did in one perfectly fluid motion. Only once he is over Ivan's lap is his throat released. His breath seemed to stutter for the first few gulps in his lungs, he momentarily felt the tension drain from his body as his body readjusted to the sudden intake of oxygen. 

It takes him a moment to settle his blurry vision and burning headache. It takes two more for him to realize while he'd been struggling to breathe Ivan had removed his pants. He only had his shirt and socks on, he was bare over another mans lap.

“I never took you for this sort of man Ivan.” He jeers to hide his humiliation. Embarrassment wasn't just an emotion he knew, it was an effective weapon wielded without a trace of pity. Ivan didn't respond verbally to the jest, he simply patted Germany’s backside, making minor adjustments to their positions. Making sure everything was secure before they began. 

Germany huffed angrily as he put his palms flat on the ground in front of him, refusing to struggle like a child, in his mind he could take whatever the Russian doled out. He was no stranger to pain, the nature of his life and current vocation needed him to attain a higher pain tolerance than most humans could withstand. He was a nation, by nature he could endure more then others. 

Ivan hasn't said anything, not that anything really needed to be said, he knew what Ivan wanted from him and Ivan knew he would never give it up willingly. It is always a battle of wills between them, strength is not the only way to determine the winner of a battle. 

Germany swallowed thickly, suppressing the tingling sensation in his stomach. He doesn’t want to chew on his lips, so he opts for gnawing on the inside of his cheek. He always felt like this when he was in this position, he wasn't over anthers knee often, not like his brother Gilbert who couldn't seem to avoid them. But his brothers Roderich and Gilbert never held back when he was, no matter his age it always ended the same. 

_Not this time, not with Ivan..._

Germany is harshly yanked from his thoughts when Russia pulls his hand back about to strike. Those few seconds of anticipation stripped his nerves raw with a nervous kind of energy. It tingled through him with electrical sparks, causing him to tense his arms and curl his toes. 

The first slap felt like it was as loud as a clap of thunder and it _stung._ It had been an open-handed smack and he knew without looking at his backside it had left a red welt behind. He realized Ivan had never removed his glove, the texture different then if it was skin slapping skin. It was a little sharper, Germany did his best to breathe evenly and slowly, this was going to be difficult but not impossible. The pain was difficult to ignore and had unpleasant warmth to it. 

He felt some nausea too, making his breathing harder to control. He knew that sensation would pass soon enough though, it was just the stress eating at him. But until it dispelled he focused on it, instead of the leather gloved hand reddening his backside. Ivan was keeping the blows out of rhythm, making it difficult to predict when to expect the next or where. 

It was silent in the room except for the raining smacks, it felt distinctly lewd and wrong. The sound was almost harder to deal with then the building heat, he couldn't easily block out the pain, the embarrassment, his own increasing anger, as well as his frustration and the noise. Each time he tried to push one from his mind another crept in. Making his thoughts swirl around so close to the front of his mind, but none of them ever stayed long enough to become his center focus. 

The steady rhythm of smacks were becoming a real irritation, he felt his frustration building steadily as the burn. The pain isn't sharp like a needle point or a knife, it builds steadily similar to boiling water. Only ever getting hotter. Ludwig utterly loathed being this pinned and helpless, by Ivan of all people. Ivan, who didn't seem to be tiring or bothered by the fact that he's spanking another grown man. 

Ludwig was absolutely furious and unable to do anything but endure this. The never ending smacks caused the war within him to become the focus as much as anything else. A part of him wanting to explode from the frustration of it all. He take a deep breath, he wanted so desperately to shout, have a tantrum and beat his hands on the ground like a toddler. 

Part of him wanted to vent, let it out. Another part, his pride, wanted to endure this with absolute dignity and silence. Not that there would be much dignity to be found right now, seeing how he was upended over another mans knee. 

It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep from at least fidgeting from the pain that was increasing in steady waves. He would be able to block it out for small lulls, giving him false hope that he could endure it until it was done. Then he'd be forced back to reality causing the pain to feel like it was peaking, robbing his ability think rationally. 

“You seem to be struggling mister Germany.” Ivan says, sounding unusually kind for someone in his position, he doesn't stop striking Germany's backside and thighs but he slows enough to be heard over the slaps. 

To avoid responding he clamps a hand over his mouth, the other rigidly griping and flexing against the stone floor. His eyelids were squeezed shut so tightly they began to fidget and shudder from the excessive force. His toes curled and uncurled, shifting minutely on the floor, it felt as if the very corner of his eyes were being pricked with a needle. Finally one tear escaped running down his blushing cheek, creating a wet dot on the floor below. 

Stubborn to the end as he was Ludwig tightened his abdominal muscles with the effort of hanging on and his internal grip on everything. Determined to cling onto the last string of his resolve with iron like intensity. 

“You are stubborn just like your brother,” Ivan chuckled to himself. “But don’t worry, my arm does not tire.” He sounded so reassuring, despite the fact that his words were anything but reassuring at this point. Ivan sped up his pace again, pushing Ludwig over the last few hurdles. “I see you Ludwig. I do. I see pain in those blue eyes of yours. It has sat there for far too long, trapped in the confusion we all sometimes carry when a radical change takes our people by storm.”

A frantic gasp was the only sound Ludwig could make at that, he fought the overwhelming urge to wriggle like his bones were made of rubber. His right leg tenses and kicks out seemingly of it's own accord before he furiously reigns the urge back in. 

“I-Ivan!” Ludwig panted, feeling sudden panic that he was slipping he bit his tongue before he could finish his sentence. His pride making it's last few frenzied punches at his willpower. He'd almost said _please_ and the thought kills him.

“Mmm,” Ivan hums gently in response. He takes a thoughtful breath before speaking again. His tone still light, a complete contradiction to his actions. “There is so much of your life that is a hell for your soul right now. I know you stay, as they say, 'knee deep' in it due to your strength. Rather than fear or weakness. It takes an iron will to have held onto to all of this control for as long as you have. I think your long overdue for letting some of it go.” Ivan shakes his head almost fondly, though Germany doesn't see the action. 

Germany's mind screamed out as the harsh pain drove through his backside. Every thought he had became equal parts muddled and frenzied as the burning pain licked up his thighs like scorching fire. “You're so close. Come one now, just a little further.” Ivan encouraged, feeling how tense the body across his thighs had become. Like a rock every one of Ludwig’s muscles were poised tightly. 

“Ivan stop-” Germany tried to demand, but it sounded more like a plea. The thoughts are accelerating inside his head at a truly dizzying pace. He wished wholeheartedly for them to slow so he could breathe, but they won't. His breaths come in gasps and he feels for a moment like he will black out from the unending rush. His heart is hammering inside his chest like it belongs to a rabbit running for its skin. 

The only thing he can think to do at this point it to escape, escape from the overwhelming sensations of panic and desperation. He flexed his entire body as much as he could, his shoulders dipped and twisted. His limbs going up and down in violent chaotic strikes, in unsuccessful attempts at venting the built up irritation. Ludwig sucked in air like he had when Ivan had first let go of his neck. Like it was his first time breathing, but no matter how much air he drew into his lungs it was not enough to dissipate the tightness in his chest. Trying to shove or buck or fight his way off Ivan's lap. To get away from the swirl of aching thoughts and the seemingly inevitable collapse of his emotional state.

Ivan held him down easily enough, Germany's movements to frantic and ungraceful to cause the other man any real trouble. He kept his pace steady, letting Germany wear himself out. 

Ivan leans over and whispers into the shell of Ludwig's ear, “You are holding out for an end that will never come _kleiner Junge._ ” Germany freezes for a second, in his sudden and intense silence he somehow screamed with his whole body. His eyes wide with horror and mouth open without sound. His fists clenched with white knuckles and his nails dug deeply into the palms of his hand. His brothers would always say the same thing when he struggled particularly hard when they spanked him. 

Ludwig gritted his teeth for a final moment of control until he couldn't bear the thought of his brothers anymore and allowed the built up howl shred through his throat like a great shard of glass. He cried as if his brain was being demolished from the inside. It felt as if every pent up thought and emotion flowed out of his pores. It was more than crying, it was the kind of desolate sobbing that comes from a person drained of every ounce of fight. He no longer kicked or physically fought back, he lied on Ivan's lap in complete collapse. 

He didn't even notice that Ivan had stilled his hand. He was massaging the tension out of Ludwig’s neck and shoulders with one hand while the other rubbed his back and sides. Soothing Ludwig’s submission and heartbreak. Ivan knew this kind of sobbing was the sound of a heart breaking. The reality of the war, the toll it had taken for all of them, it's sacrifice and fight all for nothing. Ludwig had lost.

Ivan knew hearts don't snap like brittle caramel or burst like an overfilled balloon. A heart breaks in the heaving waves of a new disturbing reality that has arrived, uninvited. He knew that this was far from over, it would take time for the penance of Germany's governments actions to be paid in full. If they ever really could be, that would have to remain to be seen. 

But for now, the fight with in their personified nation could begin to resolve.


End file.
